


The Price of All Things

by Abstract_Thoughts



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Dynamics, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, anyway the Goodest Boyes raise adam that's it, this is so self indulgent, what do human babies need??? idk lets make it up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 14:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19359136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abstract_Thoughts/pseuds/Abstract_Thoughts
Summary: Choices are things we make every day. Maybe you had cereal for breakfast, or maybe you didn't have any! Maybe you took your usual way to work, or maybe you took the faster way and got a coffee on the way.Not every choice is so benign, however.Sometimes, you choose to raise the Antichrist instead of delivering him as you were ordered to by your Lord and Master, Satan Himself.





	The Price of All Things

**Author's Note:**

> heya gamers  
> this show absolutely destroyed me and i cope in the only way i know how

The plan was simple- bring the Antichrist to the church, and swap him with a human baby.

One would assume this to be easy directions to follow- and they would be, if the demon who’d been tasked with the job was in any way competent.

Crowley, however, was not. This was quite easy to tell as he sped down a country road at about 90 kph hissing, “ _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit_!” as the Prince of Darkness slept in a basket in the back seat, getting whipped around as Crowley drove like the absolute maniac he was. He knew his orders, and, until that very moment, had intended to follow through.

But, here’s the thing about choices.

We all make them- be we angel, demon, human or otherwise- and in another life, Crowley would have brought the baby to the hospital. Perhaps he would have brought it to the right room, or the wrong room, or perhaps he would have sat in the parking lot for 3 hours and panicked, before driving away and hiding in Somalia for a few decades.

Instead, though, he sped right past the hospital, headed for Soho.

This was, out of all of them, the worst idea he’d had in 6000 years. And, _yes_ , that included the time he made the Austrian army fight itself, or when he thought it’d be hilarious to give some Russian healer magical abilities. It _had_ , in fact, been absolutely hilarious, but Aziraphale would never let him live it down.

Speak of the Devil- or, well, the exact opposite- not 23 minutes later, an angel sat in his bookshop, reading the most _wonderful_ book about wizards. He was never one for fantasy, but as it seemed to be becoming a modern classic, Aziraphale decided it would be best to get it out of the way now. He _had,_ after all, said the same thing about Dante’s Inferno, after all, so who knows? It might end up being delightful!

Of course, this evening in was interrupted by the sound of his shop door slamming open and then shut. Aziraphale looked up, and put his bookmark in. He _had_ locked the door, right? Even if he wasn’t, they were closed. He set his book down, and entered the main shop to tell the person just that, when he heard a frantic, “ _Angel_!?”

If he didn’t know any better, Aziraphale might think Crowley was scared.

But demons don’t get scared, and angels certainly don’t care if demons are scared.

Coming around the shelves, Aziraphale asked, “Crowley, what’s going on?” he looked his companion up and down and said, “Why do you have a picnic basket?”

Crowley, who had set the basket down on one of the display tables- the new ones, the ones he hadn’t gotten around to putting anything on yet- and was pacing rapidly, shoved his sunglasses up on top of his head and said, “I’m so _fucked_ ,” then he turned on his heel and said, “This is all your fault, _Angel_ , if you hadn’t gotten in my head with all those questions, and _good things_!” his snake-like eyes almost appeared to be glowing in the low light.

Okay, so he was panicking. Always good. Aziraphale closed the space between them and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Crowley, what’s wrong?”

The anger crumbled at the touch- it always seemed to- and Crowley said, “I _may_ have not delivered the Antichrist,”

Aziraphale blanched, “That’s- _what_?” he asked, “What in God’s name are you talking about? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“For you, maybe, but not for me! I was supposed to deliver the baby, do the old switcheroo-”

Aziraphale whispered with a little giggle, “ _Switcheroo_!”

Crowley pretended not to hear that, continuing, “- but I panicked! So- _fuck!_ \- he’s in the basket.”

Aziraphale stared at him, “I’m sorry, the _Antichrist_ is in that basket?” he pointed to the picnic basket sitting _in his shop_ , and took about 3 steps backwards, “The _Antichrist_!?”

Crowley hissed, snake tounge and all, snapping, “Oh, for Satan’s sake, Aziraphale, he’s a baby!”

“Yes, a baby meant to bring about the end of all things!”

“Well, I mean, not _all_ -”

“Yes, but-” Aziraphale paused, and looked at Crowley’s frazzled state. He asked, “Why didn’t you deliver him?”

“Why didn’t I-?” he made a noise somewhere between screaming and shouting, saying, “I panicked!” the baby stirred a little at the noise.

“Well, yes, I understand that part. But aren’t you supposed to want the end to come?”

“I’m _supposed_ to do a lot of things...” Crowley muttered, then continued, “I- I- I- I don’t know! I just... What if the war doesn’t have to happen? What if, like, he’s raised by good people, and he learns to use his powers for good?”

Aziraphale stared at him, “Well, that would require a lot of monitoring, and finding the right parents and-” he frowned as he understood what Crowley meant, “Oh, no! Absolutely not!”

“Why not? Isn’t it better than him being raised by some American diplomat-”

“A _diplomat_ , really?”

“Some of the evilest of men, Angel, and with resources to boot!”

“Yes but- okay this isn’t the point! I am not helping you raise the Antichrist, for God’s sake!”

Crowley smiled at him, “And why not?”

“I- I- I am an angel, Crowley, I do not-!” he took a steadying breath, “I am not supposed to-!”

“That’s never stopped you before,”

“- do that sort of thing!”

“Well, here’s the deal,” Crowley put his hand on Aziraphale’s arm, “I go back, tell everyone I already made the switch, and- _and_!” he half-shouted the last bit there as he followed Aziraphale, who was storming to the back of the shop, “And you can teach him all your _good stuff_ , and I’ll do the bad stuff, so it’ll cancel each other out and no one will know!” he smiled then- that beautiful smile of his that he _knew_ made Aziraphale crumble to his wishes, because.... Well, how could God have created such a beautiful, wonderful being, and then made him a demon? She was absolutely cruel, sometimes, The Almighty.

Aziraphale sighed, “Fine, but the second we get in trouble for this-”

“We _won’t_ , Angel,”

“- it falls on your head!”

“Agreed,” Crowley held out his hand, which Aziraphale took, and shook, “I’ll be back,” he said, ducking out the door and into the very characteristic thunderstorm.

The angel turned to the basket now, opening it. The child had stirred a bit. He was... Completely normal. Two hands, two feet, 10 fingers, 10 toes, biologically male... He was just a baby.

Aziraphale, now knowing that he would die for this child but not daring to say it out loud, took the boy into his arms and rocked him a bit. With a minor miracle there was a bottle for him. Babies used those, right?

“Now,” he said as he let the little one eat, “we just need to figure out a name for you,”

 

...

 

Crowley slowed the Bentley to a stop as he came up to the convent. There was a man outside- the Earthly father, perhaps? Didn’t look like much of a diplomat- taking a smoke. Crowley jumped out of the car, and as he passed the man he asked, “Where is she?”

The man asked, “Are you the doctor?”

Crowley, not stopping his stride, answered, “Yup, now answer the question,”

“Room 3,”

“Got it,”

Ducking into the hospital, the demon made his way into the 3rd room, and the mother was sleeping soundly. The child, wrapped in a red blanket.

“Where have you been, Crowley?” grumbled a voice behind the aforementioned demon, who turned to see-

“Hastur!” he said with a grin, “I’ve been here, doing what I’m told like a good little demon! Where have _you_ been?”

Hastur opened his mouth, then closed it, and asked, “You made the switch?”

Crowley snorted, “For Satan’s sake, Hastur, of course I did!”

Hastur narrowed those black eyes of his, “I don’t trust you,”

“Of course you don’t,”

 

...

 

“Adam?” demanded Crowley as clothes and books moved about the room, packing themselves, “But Damien was too on the nose?”

Aziraphale, clearly disgruntled, “I thought Adam was fitting,”

Crowley, 100% not blushing at the idea, muttered, “I guess we _did_ meet that way...”

Hearing none of that, the angel asked, “But where should we go?”

“I thought about that!” Crowley grinned, very proud of himself, “There’s a village by the hospital he was supposed to be brought to. It’s called Tadfield. Lovely little place...”

Aziraphale grinned, “Well, it appears there’s just been a cottage bought there!”

“How miraculous,”

“Indeed,”


End file.
